Stars Beneath Our Feet
by LettersFromAChibi
Summary: Creg is a member of the Sheikah, clever but uninterested in the duties forced upon his tribe. His curiosity sparks when he notices an anomaly in the lake. Lust for adventure and knowledge spurs him to discover creatures unknown, a peoples shrouded in water, and an unshakable longing. With the escalating tensions in Hylia, can Creg and his Zora companion understand each other?


**A/N: Thank you for checking out my story! This will be a Creek fic where a romance blossoms between a Sheikah and a Zora. Names are changed due to naming conventions in the Zelda universe, so I hope that doesn't bother anyone too much.**

* * *

The repetitive sound of scraping, the rawness of my hands, the persistent splash of water…

"Creg...I'm bored!"

The whining of my friend snaps me out of my daze. I look across the plateau to his sprawled form in the grass, brush and wash bucket long forgotten. "If only there were something you could do…" I trail off, tapping the brush thoughtfully against my chin.

Surprisingly, he caught on. "But Creg! Cleaning the shrine is so boring! Why did the elders even bother assigning someone to clean this old thing anyway?"

"They didn't want it cleaned because it was dirty; they wanted to punish _us_ for something stupid _you_ did," I retort.

"Oh, my goddess Creg! Are you still angry that we were caught swimming in the holy water?"

" _We_ didn't go swimming. _You_ went swimming then forcefully dragged me in."

"Yeah, but you didn't tell me swimming in it was a bad idea," Claid pointedly says.

"Yes, I did. Then you told me to stop being a downer then grabbed me by the ankles and yanked."

Claid shrugs. "All I hear is that this was most definitely your fault."

I hurl my brush at his stupid face, earning a rewarding "ow" and a well-deserved series of punches to my arm. Claid gives me that ridiculous grin that spans the doofus's entire face and laughs like the demon he is. He launches himself at me and—before I have time to react—tears my hat off and sits on it.

"Oi!" I scold, even though I don't want to wear the hat after it touched his butt. I pat my hair down self consciously.

"Is that all the Sword Master's son has? For shame! The royal family is surely doomed if left in his hands!" Claid puffs his chest out and—not as subtlely as he probably hoped—flexed his arms. "Truly they need to see some true heroism!"

I repress the smile threatening to form. "Where would this heroism be found? From the guy straining his breath and slowly turning red?"

Claid immediately deflates. "Once we officially start our combat training, I'm sure my true talents will shine," he pouts. "Besides, I would look too good in the royal guard uniform for them to ignore." He wiggles his eyebrows beneath his white bangs, and I can't fight my eyes' natural instinct to roll.

"How do you know you want to be a royal guard?" The question escapes my lips before my thoughts catch up.

He quirks an eyebrow at me. "Um doesn't every guy want to? Fighting monsters, protecting citizens, patrolling Hyrule Castle...there's no higher honor than that." I hum in acknowledgment. "Plus, the Queen is supposed to be a beauty! Who wouldn't want to see that every day?" I hum again. "Creg, are you still listening?" I am, but I hum anyway. Punch. "You ass... Why d'ya ask?"

I look up to the rapidly blackening sky, thinking. "I don't know... I just don't think that's where I belong."

"Why? Is it because of your skills? Dude, you get to practice with a sword all the time at home! Once combat training starts, just keep your lead, and you'll stay on top...after me, of course." Picking at the grass next to me, I fidget slightly under my friend's gaze. "Unless...you mean among the Sheikah."

Silence falls between us as the wind ruffles our hair. Black next to white.

I want to refute, but that bitter, empty feeling threatens to break my composure. "Nah," I say, trying to sound flippant, though it comes out broken. "You know I'm not fit for all that honor and poise stuff. I would much rather go adventuring on my own...discover the wonders of the world myself." I keep my gaze fixated on the town below us, lanterns lighting, the Sheikhi being corralled inside by their mothers, anything but my friend.

Claid regards me momentarily before shifting his sitting position and dusting off my hat. "Yeah, yeah...Boring Creg is going to explore the edges of the world, find treasures buried in Lurelin, and get himself a Gerudo girlfriend."

I snatch my hat back and stuff it inside my jacket. "I will, just you watch. I'm gonna solve every damn mystery this world's got. And I even know where to start."

"Oh? Where's that?"

I glare at him. "I'll start with the mystery of how I spent the entirety of the afternoon cleaning this shrine alone, while my stupid best friend hasn't done squat."

"Aw, Creg!" Claid croons. "Your best friend? Who knew I would be the one to melt that icy heart of yours?" I lock his head under my arm and tussle his hair roughly. "Ow! Creg!"

"I take it back. I have no best friend."

Claid sneaks a glance at me between my arms. "Yes, you do! You said that I, Claid, am your best, bravest, and most devastatingly handsome friend—ow!"

"I'm about to have a dead friend if that's who you're talking about."

"No!" Claid squeals, trying to wrestle out of my grasp. My eyes move away from his struggle for a moment to focus on something shiny, something that twinkled under the light of the emerging full moon before disappearing into the shadows of the Lantern Lake. What in Hylia was that, a fallen star? In that instant of distraction, Claid wriggles free with a shout of triumph. "I have bested the greatest warrior in our level—hey! Where are you going?"

I peek over the cliffside on my tiptoes, trying to find a better vantage point of what glimmered in the waters. The water of the lake is nearly blackened from the cast shadows of sundown. "I have something I need to do before it gets too dark. Finish cleaning the shrine for me, will you?" I jump down to the path leading to town.

"Creg!" I glance up to see Claid's head peering over the crag. "We were supposed to clean together!"

"Well, we would've been done by now if Sheikah's bravest was instead Sheikah's most focused. You can make up for the time I spent cleaning on my own, yeah?" Before Claid can answer, I race down the path, only able to distinguish vague shouting over the hum of insects.

The path winds through the modest town, each of the little cottages' windows flickering with warm light and wafting of freshly cooked dinner. I pass my own home, where I see my mother flitting around the kitchen. The Sunset Fireflies light my way past old Deril's property, circling the lanterns on either side of the road. The crumbling dirt path I walk becomes more manicured, and borders of intricate patterns of groomed pebbles sprout as the road blossoms into the central plaza.

The usual crowd of shoppers in the plaza has thinned by now, all the Sheikhi who regularly play in the center rushed home to make curfew, leaving mostly guards on patrol and standing watch over the grand house of the chief. An unusual sparkle glimmers for a moment in the waters running around the house. There it is. The guards are stationed just a stone's throw from the lake in the well-lit plaza, in front of the fence keeping people from falling into the water. I have to figure out a way past them.

I sneak behind the lone tree overhanging part of the square. The branches won't stretch high nor far enough to reach the lake, but at least it's a place to start. Silently, I climb to the topmost branch, careful not to rustle any leaves. Peering to the guards in front of me, I realize my misfortune. Hiklorie and Picil are standing watch directly in front of the lake's banks. They are some of the keenest warriors at the Sheikah's disposal. They are aware of every aspect of their surroundings, every movement, every new smell, every sound...

I just realized there is a low, persistent buzzing nearby. How did I miss that?

It must be coming from this tree. Fortunately, the bees didn't give away my position as I climbed up. But, any dynamic movements will set both the bees and the guards on me.

Reaching into my jacket's inner pocket, I pull out the clutter inside. Hopefully, I have a weak transportation talisman so I can move the beehive to the guards' positions and force their attention elsewhere. Some coins, my weathered pen, my butt-hat—ah! I found a few talisman scrolls. They are only beginner's spells, but there should be something useful here.

I unroll each of them and find no transportation talisman, just a blur, a chill, and a fear talisman. If only I were one of the powerful magic users of the tribe, then I could scare the guards from their posts. A faint idea pops inside my mind. It's not a good idea, but it's my only option.

I clutch the fear talisman in my hands, staring down at the inscriptions hard. I close my eyes and keep my mind's eye open.

 _'As the winds cease to blow_

 _And shadows climb from dusk,_

 _Predatory and cold,_

 _Fear corrodes any husk.'_

I snap open my eyes as the magic expells from the talisman. Now, I wait.

I keep as still as stone, not even allowing a breath slip and reveal my presence. Then, I hear it—the crescendo of buzzing. The single bee I targetted sent all its friends into a frenzy, and now the whole hive is being consumed by fear.

The guards seem to notice this too. Hiklorie shifts into a ready position, facing the growing swarm. Picil grabs a torch and sets it ablaze.

I wait until the swarm of bees descends to attack the antagonistic energy stemming from those two. Picil draws them to the fire as Hiklorie attempts to ward off their negative energy. In their moment of preoccupation, I take my chance. I spring off of the bough and land as close to the lake as I can manage. Then, I run. I sprint as fast as I can, hurdling over the low gate surrounding the lake and diving into the dark waters.

I squint beneath the water's surface. There is a great nothingness in front of me, obliterating all features of the lake floor. The moon illuminates only a fraction of the lake, which looks to be nothing but rock edges and mud, so I blindly feel around the void. My arms stretch out, pushing the water every which way, trying to find anything in the depths.

Before long, something solid bounces off the side of my hand. I chase after it, corralling it to the shore. The moonlight catches the object bobbing under the surface. It looks like some kind of bottle. Grabbing it, I finally resurface. I hold the bottle to the light to inspect it and...it seems like it contains some sort of paper, possibly a note. It is also filled to the brim with water, yet has no cracks in it. Bizarre.

"Hey!" A booming voice sounds nearby.

Immediately, I tuck the bottle into my jacket. Picil saunters up to the fence around the lake, the bee problem already managed and forgotten about, shining the torch in my direction. Upon seeing my face, he sighed deeply. "Creg, what are you doing in the lake, especially at this time of day?"

Oops. I didn't think past the acquisition of the bottle. "Sorry Master Picil. Um...there was a big swarm of bees, and I got scared. So, I dove into the lake to keep them from stinging me."

He pauses for a moment, before nodding, accepting my excuse. "Alright Creg. Just get home quickly, understood?" Stepping over the gate, he offers his hand down to me.

I grab his hand, muttering, "understood," as he hoists me out of the water. Before he has the chance to reconsider or Hiklorie can come over and lecture me, I bound over the fence and race home.

* * *

Drip. This is fine. No one will notice, and I will make my way to the bedroom immediately. Drip. I open the front door of my house and shut it behind me as soundlessly as possible.

Busily setting food and utensils on the table, my mother does not notice my return. My sister, however, is sitting at the table, facing my direction. We lock eyes, and she takes in my soaking wet form. Shaking my head and placing a finger on my lip, I hope she recognizes my signals to remain quiet. Her mouth quirks with the urge to laugh.

"Trisla, could you pour water for everyone?" my mother asked.

At this, my sister burst into giggles. "Could you hold the cups as I wring Creg out?"

She had to ruin it for me. I turn to escape before—"Creg!" Damn. "Care to explain your appearance?" Facing my mother, I recognize the telltale signs of an upcoming scolding: her hands fix onto her hips, and her white eyebrows narrow to a point.

Glancing down at my clothing, I try to find the right words. "I know, I just came back from town, and at least three other guys were wearing the exact same thing. Talk about oversaturation..."

"Don't get smart with me, young Sheikondo," she scolded, using that familiar lilt in her voice.

"That would be a nice change," Trisla pipes up.

My mother sends her a warning look before turning back to me. "I don't want you to be swimming so close to nightfall; you could get sick or seriously injured." Sheepishly, I rub the back of my neck. It always seems like I'm the only one who gets scolded. Goddesses know Trisla never gets yelled at by Father and that girl is far from perfect.

Mother seems to notice my change in demeanor and forgoes the full lecture that she so badly wants to give. "Now, go dry up before your father sees you." I nod and head to the back of the house, unamused at my sister sticking her tongue out as I pass. What a little monster.

As I reach the area with my bedding, I pull the wall divide shut behind me. I shuck my jacket and sticking shirt off and grab the crumpled hat in the pocket. Did the swim in the lake negate all the horrors it witnessed at the mercy of Claid's ass? Probably not. Best dip it in the holy water tomorrow. I set it beside my bed.

Next, I lift the mysterious bottle out of my pocket. As I unclasp the top of the container, the scent of something sweet and perfumy mixed with seawater immediately hits me. Out of curiosity, I take a small sip of the water. It is...refreshing. It tastes like the first sip of water after being parched or a breath of fresh air after a storm. Neither dirty nor salty, the water runs pure and thick down my throat.

I pick the greenish parchment out of the bottle, shutting the container tight and tucking it under my futon. The piece of paper, although it was just submerged and looks wet, is bone dry to touch. As I unroll it, my eyes scrolled across the page.

I can't read it; it's in some strange script that is neither Sheikah nor Hylian. Each character slants and runs into one another. From rudimentary cryptography lessons, I remember finding the most common symbols and transcribing them into the Hylian equivalents. As I begin to pick it apart, character by character, I realize the words are not making any sense. This message isn't Hylian written in a different script or code; it must be the writer's native language.

"Creg?" Trisla calls from behind the wall divider. Tearing my eyes away from the page, I hurriedly hide the illegible message under my pillow. She pushes the divider away. "Dinner's ready—oh goddess, Creg! No one wants to see that!"

"Yeah, yeah," I scoff as I pull the divider between us again. "I'll be out in a moment." Glancing at my pillow, I am consumed by my interest. Unfortunately, there are no foreign language books in my house so I will have to stew in my curiosity for the night. But, tomorrow I can stop by Purah's library, and she most definitely will have something useful.

I shed my pants and wipe my body dry with a towel. With a few harsh shakes to my pants, the water flings off of the fabric, leaving them dry as a bone. As I put them back on, a thought itches the corner of my mind.

I finish drying my clothes and redressing, emerging from the divide and take my place at the table across from Trisla. My mother sits next to me, taking a subtle glance at the vacant spot across from her. "Well," she begins, sounding a bit disappointed, "your father may not make it for dinner tonight, so eat up." She opens the pumpkin in the center of the table, releasing a plethora of amazing smells and revealing the middle is hollowed out and instead filled with meat, potatoes, carrots, and—goddess, I am already salivating.

My sister instantly jumps at the ladle, helping herself to far more than she can eat. This gives me the opportunity to ask, "mother, what are our clothes made from?"

My mother's eyebrows raise a touch at my sudden interest in attire. Regardless, she answers, "to keep them water-resistant, our clothes are coated with wax and blubber."

Trisla's face scrunched up at this. "Ew! I'm wearing a fat jacket?"

"Essentially, yes."

"So," I chime in, ignoring my sister's tangent, "we probably get the wax from here." My mother nods. "Where does the blubber come from?"

"Ah, so blubber comes from the Sand Seals in the Gerudo Province—"

Trisla interrupts, "oh, we are learning about those in my lessons!"

Fondly, my mother nods and continues, "also, Zora's Domain is our other supplier." At my and my sister's looks of confusion, she continued, "they have Water Seals there."

I chuckle lightly. "Water Seals? Mother, there is no such thing."

Looking at me incredulously, my mother raises her voice a pitch. "Of course there is! They aren't used for transportation like the Sand Seal, but they are domesticated like sheep. The Zora also use their blubber for their clothing, as well as other things that should not wear down with water, such as their structures and books."

The Zora have paper that is not affected by water.

"Alright, thanks, Mother. I didn't know all that." I take the ladle in the center and help myself to the meat stuffed pumpkin.

"Of course, dear. Does anyone have another question for the table?"

"Yeah, I have a question," Trisla chimed in. "What happened to Creg's hat?"

"Yes," my mother leaned back to look at me, "I was wondering the same thing. It's so rare we get to see your hair."

Running my fingers through it, I become fully aware and uncomfortable with how visible my hair is. "Don't get too used to it. My hat has seen war and came out a changed man. It has seen things that can never be unseen and, worse, done things that...can never be undone. It must get readjusted to civilian life before I can reintroduce it to my head."

Mother rolls her eyes. "Trisla, translate."

Trisla shrugs her shoulders. "My guess is Claid probably sat on it again."

The three of us share a laugh, reminding me why I like my home. The scent of food continually hangs in the air. The wood floors always seem warm, even in the dead of winter. The discordant windchime that none of us remember making hangs in the back window, taunting us forever. My mother always gets this look on her face when she's sewing us clothes, like a strange mixture of giddy and scary. My sister is persistently...herself.

I relish every detail of this place, which is why it will be hard to leave it.


End file.
